Kilban's silver knife
by False Truth
Summary: I was born the smallest of my litter, and was cast out by my brothers and sisters. One night in the woods, I was being hunted by someone more powerful than I, and little I know, it could be the most important day of my life.


I felt a cold breeze go over my body, and shivered. It was too hard to sleep. Groaning as another cold breeze came and went, I opened my eyes. The stars above me were shining like diamonds, and the quarter moon almost drew out my hereditary instinct to howl at it.

The cold forced me to change into my wolf-form, and curl up. I used my own fur as a blanket, but even then it felt like the middle of a long winter. I hated my body, it was small and I looked like a large arctic fox. I wasn't like any of my brothers and sisters, and they shunned me for it. They cast me out into the night because I was smaller, and weaker. My own mother didn't want me, she told me that only the strong survive, and I wasn't strong.

The sickening crack of a branch breaking interrupted the hatred swirling in my mind, and I rolled under a rock. Mud and grass covered my white fur. I looked out from under the safety of the rock, and saw a man in a pure black outfit. He was looking for me, I could tell from the way his nostrils flared when he took in the scents around him.

My eyes immediately went to the knife that was on his hip, and I knew that my best chance for survival would be to get it away from him. As he got closer to me, I backed into the safety of my cover, getting as far back as I could.

"Come out and play, little wolf," the man said, his voice hoarse. It sounded as if he didn't talk very often, or he was a heavy smoker. From the man's scent, I knew he wasn't a smoker. He was a silent stalker, but he didn't think that I was worth enough trouble to practice stealth. That thought enraged me, but it wasn't the type of anger that I felt when I thought about my brothers and sisters. This anger was cold, and calculating. I knew when to strike, and just how to get him to open himself up. I bit my tail hard, and let out a yelp to match.

A pair of hands with nails at least an inch long, and razor-sharp, grabbed the rock I was hidden under. As I suspected, he lifted it up, and opened himself up for me to strike at. I lunged forward, but didn't go for his neck, noticing that a metal collar was covering it. I, instead, aimed for his belt.

My teeth latched around his knife, and I pulled it from the sheath. I landed another yard behind him, and turned around. I let out an aggressive growl, letting him know my intent. Instead of getting the reaction I yearned for, the man began laughing, his blood-red eyes drilling into my soul. Fear filled my body, and I knew what he was planning to do to me. He wanted me dead, and there was no way that I could beat him, not with my body. I turned to run from the threat, but before I could take a step, a cloud of smoke flew above my head and solidified into the man in front of me.

I growled again, backing up and keeping my vision on the man. It was obvious that he wanted to fight, but I wasn't sure if I could beat him or not. Not knowing what else to do, I laid down on the ground and waited for him to make his move.

The man stared at Kilban in curiosity after this, "Why don't you attack?" he asked, his face curling into a scowl.

I used this moment of opportunity to change back into my human form, and closed my eyes. Once I fully transformed, I grabbed the knife in my hand and looked at it. "Because, I would rather talk than fight," it was strange, all my instincts told me to fight him, but my head told me to talk. It pained me not to give in to my instinct, and I looked up at him.

"You are the first wolf to ever say that," he told me, crossing his arms in curiosity. It was obvious that he had an agenda on his mind. "Why do you want to talk?"

I thought about the question for a few seconds, "Because, if I listened to my instincts, I would have been dead by now." It was in every sense, true. Had I fought him, he would have killed me in seconds, and had I run, it would have resulted in the same result.

The man laughed heartily, his hoarse voice echoing through the forest, "You might have a chance yet," he told me, and it was my turn to look at him in confusion. "Let me explain. I kill wolves because they are too violent, and are prone to attack when threatened. You, on the other hand, have decided instead of fighting against me, to try and talk me down. Minds like yours could change how wolves behave, and I'll give you a chance to make that change."

I tilted my head, "What does that mean?"

"Be the change you want to see, famous words from a human, from one vampire to a werewolf," he looked around, "keep that knife, because even though the pen is mightier than the sword, you must have a sword in case the pen fails." He disappeared into a puff of smoke, and left me alone to contemplate his words.

"What is a vampire?" I asked the trees around me. I shook my head and looked at the knife, my hands barely able to grasp the entire hilt. It was almost as big as my tail in wolf form, and it didn't encourage me when I saw the gleam of it in the moonlight.


End file.
